Sarah’s Billionaire Doms (2 page)

A quick flash of anger crossed her features. Damon barely caught it, but he did. He saw how easily she snuffed it out with a discipline of steel. What could possess a young woman to erect so many walls?

 She tilted her head, looking at him curiously now. “Then I apologize, Sir.” She added the ‘sir’ like an afterthought. “I wasn’t aware you were also into the lifestyle.”

“Why would you presume that, sweet little sub?” Damon pulled out a Guinness for her, not bothering with a glass. He knew she drank it straight from the bottle.

She tipped the bottle back, took a sip before answering him. “James mentioned the club owners preferred hiring staff who weren’t into the lifestyle. It’s easier for them to focus on their jobs.”

“James is right, but bartending is sort of a hobby for me. It makes me less intimidating and more approachable compared to my brother Jared or Master Kent and Anthony.” Damon named the other club owners.

Sarah’s eyes widened slightly as the implication sunk in. He didn’t blame her. Once out of his designer suit, Damon looked more like an illegal cage fighter than the co-CEO of Bentley Industries. Well, he could never quite hide the old scars or bullet wounds he sustained in his past.

Damon handed back her ID. Felt her sudden change in breathing when he closed his fingers over hers to the point of paint. She flinched, as if steeling herself for a blow. The simple action told Damon volumes. Whoever hurt her before had hurt her bad. Damon didn’t know where all the anger came from, but it rushed over him like a wave, tinting his vision momentarily crimson.

Why the fuck am I acting so overprotective over a sub that isn’t even Jared’s or mine?

But, fuck, aside from Lisa, the live-in sub he shared with Jared before, no other woman had this effect on him. To avoid causing her distress, Damon loosened his grip, but didn’t let her hand go.

“What are you doing, Sir?” she asked hesitantly, her control unraveling slightly.

“Hush, little sub. The last thing I wish to do is hurt you,” he murmured.

Damon thumbed the fragile thread of black ivy climbing up each finger. He noticed she kept her fingernails trimmed and neat. More ink peered beneath her wrist, but Damon’s attention focused on her fingers. Slender and long, they reminded Damon of an artist’s fingers, or perhaps a musician except…Damon frowned.

She tried pulling her hand back, but he spread out each digit, so every bend and crooked line stood out against the light. Damon let out a hiss under his breath.

Before being co-founder of Bentley Industries and the club, Damon had seen his fair share of shit and violence—out on the streets when he started as an illegal cage fighter, when he did serious time for five years, and finally in the middle of a war zone, where the rules that made up the civilized world became irrelevant.

Damon knew exactly what happened to her fingers. Someone had taken the time to break each one.

Come to think of it, he’d never seen her naked before. During play in public areas, she’d wear sexy lingerie or sexy leather corsets with matching stockings, but Damon knew, buried under her impressive ink, were old scars. This, though. Why hadn’t he noticed her hands before?

“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice low. She pulled her hand back successfully, looking shaken. Worse, she kept her lashes lowered, seemingly terrified of looking at him in the eye again.

“I’m sorry. This is a bad idea.” The instinct for flight triggered, Sarah practically leapt out of her seat.

Catching sight of Jared’s frown and approaching figure, Damon called out. “Jared, help me catch the fleeing sub.”

She bumped right into Jared’s broad chest, entire body tensing when he firmly caught her wrist.

“Easy there, little one. No harm will come to you, I promise,” Jared said in soothing tones. He gently banded one hand over her waist and began stroking her back up and down with lazy circles until she relaxed.

“Barrett, take over for me,” Damon told the dungeon monitor by the wall.

He threaded his way out of the bar and made his way to his brother. Jared gave him a questioning look, but Damon knew Jared trusted him enough to have his reasons. Certain Sarah retained her calm, Jared tilted her head upwards and then kissed her—slowly, deeply, and taking his time. The sight of them made Damon’s cock twitch in his jeans.

“You taste wonderfully sweet, little one. Take deep breaths. Good. Now could you tell me what triggered your panic, Sarah?” Jared asked, gently parting Sarah from him.

She blinked, flushed quite prettily, and then glanced at Jared then Damon. She took a hesitant, if polite step away from them. At least she didn’t run away.

“It’s nothing, Sir. A misunderstanding. I think I’ll head home,” she said, regaining composure.

Damon tipped her chin upwards. Genuine fire lit her vivid green eyes. “Don’t lie to us, Sarah. Didn’t you come to the club this evening looking for a play mate?”

“I’m afraid I changed my mind, Sir.”

Damon didn’t miss the petulant way she said ‘sir.’ He grinned. She bit her lower lip. Her slight flare of rebellion made her appear younger. Rendered her much easier to read and gave Damon some solace the bastard who abused her in the past hadn’t completely killed off her defiance.

A thousand questions raced through Damon’s head, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting answers, not tonight at least. Any normal Dom would have backed off after seeing the warning signs of a problematic sub and avoided further complications, but if she sparked his and Jared’s interest before, she now became an obsession.

Jared laid the cards out in the open. “If you’re looking for play partners for tonight, little sub, my brother and I will top you.”

“Both of you, Sir?”

Damon didn’t miss the way her gaze scanned both of them, or the way she licked her lips. He wondered which would win in the end: her curiosity and hunger, or her fear. Despite her background, she returned to the club, week after week, without fail for a reason.

Jared nodded, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She relaxed into him again, all thoughts of leaving eliminated. Sarah didn’t even look alarmed when he gently placed aside her silky hair to squeeze the back of her neck. The instant connection and ease Jared established with most subs made Damon a little envious, but that was his brother’s expertise.

“Indeed. Both of us, and we can take it easy. I’ll have one of the private rooms readied if you wish, unless,” Jared paused, probably gauging her reaction as Damon did. “You prefer being seen in public?”

She flushed for the second time that evening, her cheeks, even her neck, a pretty color.

“The way her tits are hardening under her shirt is answer enough. If I yank down her jeans, do you think we’ll find her wet, Jared?” Damon asked. He brushed his knuckles lightly over her pebbled nipples, ignoring her surprised gasp, noting the sound wasn’t one of resistance.

“Well.” Jared pursed his lips, gave Sarah a contemplative look, and showed her the same dark desire that mirrored Damon’s. “Answer my brother honestly, sub. Are your panties soaked?”

She looked up at him and gave Jared a seemingly innocent look. “You presume I’m wearing panties in the first place, Sir.”

Jared let out a breath.

Damon chuckled. “What a dirty-mouthed, sub.”

Hesitation flickered across her face. Damon caught her free wrist, fingering the black ink there. He wondered if she knew how rare they made such an offer. Jared and he never lacked for willing subs. They seldom took young subs who always seemed desperate to please and took too much work. Besides, most of the subs had only been attracted to their wealth and status. When Jared and he finally did share one, it meant something more than a simple one-night stand.

Their relationship with Lisa lasted for almost three years—three wonderful years of joy and sorrow, happiness and pain, before cancer took her back to the ground. Damon swallowed the lump in his throat. Jared and he always talked about how it was time to move on. Lisa wouldn’t want them to stay miserable all their lives, mourning her loss. Five years was more than enough time to move on. They agreed to take it slow. With Sarah, though, Damon suspected they had to take a leap.  

“Forget what I said before. Let me assure you Jared and I know what we’re doing. Finish your drink while we have the talk. We’ll go over your limits, safeword, and such. If you change your mind any time during our discussion, then you’re free to leave.”

“Okay,” Sarah agreed.

Damon found a secluded spot for the three of them at the corner of the lounge. She stilled when Jared placed his hands on her shoulders.

“If you hadn’t noticed, you’re a little overdressed,” Damon pointed out. He nodded to the subs dressed in latex, leather, or nothing at all, sitting beside or at the feet of their Masters and Mistresses.

“Let’s get you relaxed, yes?” Jared asked. She eyed the comfy couch large enough to fit them, and then nodded. Jared glanced at Damon. “Should we have her strip?”

Sarah stole a wary look at him, and then lowered her gaze when he met hers.

“Take off your boots and your jeans. You can keep your shirt for a while, if that makes you comfy.”

Damon joined Jared on the couch, watching her strip. She placed her socks and boots on the side of the couch before stepping out of her jeans. Sarah folded her jeans meticulously and placed everything neatly to one side. Was she a neat freak?

Interesting.

True to her word, Sarah didn’t wear any panties. Damon didn’t know what to look at first—the tempting curve of her legs, dipped in color, or the clit ring peeking from her shaved pussy. Seeing her skin bared was merely the tip of the iceberg. Damon wanted to feel the contrast between her soft, young, and inked flesh against his hard, callused hands. To see how her skin changed color, bearing their marks. 

“Very nice. Sit on my brother’s lap, Sarah,” Jared instructed.

Damon easily supported the curve of her back as she settled on his lap. She didn’t remark on his erection pressing against his jeans, didn’t struggle as he firmly secured one arm over her waist. Still, the thought only a single piece of denim separated her bare pussy from his leg was slightly maddening. Tempting and all too easy to push her shoulders to the carpeted floor, command her to raise her ass and dripping cunt for his use, but Damon hung onto his control. They had to be careful when handling a delicate case like Sarah.

“Arms around my neck, little one,” Damon said. She felt so tiny against him. He liked the feel of her warm arms around him, her breasts upright and rubbing against his chest, and her clit ring digging into his denim jeans.

“I have every sub’s information and limit on file, but I’d like to hear your likes and dislikes from your own lips,” Jared started.

As they began talking, Damon fingered the hem of her shirt, delighted when she didn’t argue when he commanded her to lift up her hands so Jared could pull the shirt off her head. The knowledge he had her young body stripped, every inch of her silken and inked skin bared for his brother and he, made for a heady combination.

Damon could spend hours exploring every inch of her skin, while he kept her body bound and spread. He wanted to unearth every curve and line, put his mouth and hand over the scars buried under the ink she made her armor. Damon wanted to possess the power to control and deny her.

“Do you often go out without any underwear on?” Jared asked curiously. Damon’s cock thickened when Jared reached out to take Sarah’s left nipple between forefinger and thumb. He pinched the tip. She moaned, doing wonders for Damon’s control. “Answer me, sub.”

“Only on nights like this, Sir.”

Jared frowned. “If you’re playing with us, call us by our names. Is that understood? Let us hear it.”

Unable to help himself, Damon closed his mouth over her right earlobe, biting down.

Sarah’s breath quickened. “Yes, Master Jared, Master Damon.”

“Good girl. Hold out your hands.” Sarah did. Jared fastened leather cuffs on her wrists, and then looked at Damon. “Ankles, too?”

“Might as well,” Damon agreed, feeling a shiver—the good sort—pass through Sarah’s spine.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask, Sarah, because once we start, we won’t stop. Do you understand what you agreed to for tonight?” Jared asked, using his Dom voice.

“Yes, Master Jared. I understand.”

“That you’re open to both our use in any way we want. You’ll obey without question unless it becomes too much and you use your safeword, but if you use yell red without any other reason, then we’re done. You may call it yellow when you feel discomfort, and we’ll adjust accordingly. You understand?” Damon asked. He ran a hand down her spine just to feel her warm body shiver against him again.

“Yes, Master Damon.”

Damon kissed the top of head. She looked surprised by the gesture. “Then let’s get started.” He glanced at Jared. “Ideally, I want her bound and plugged to one of the sawhorses in one of the public stations so we can mark and color her pretty ass red and pink. What do you think?”

The way she instantly tensed up had been answer enough.

“The thought frightens you, but you never had a problem doing public scenes with other tops before,” Jared pointed out. “Why? Do we unnerve you so?”

She began to look away, but Damon didn’t like that. He fisted his fingers into her hair, clasped the nape of her neck so she looked directly at him. Sarah’s lips parted slightly, a silent plea. Her pupils diluted, turned to a darker color. Damon felt the rise and fall of her chest against him, the way she strained to keep her legs apart as her pussy juices soaked through his jeans. Completely submissive.

“Answer my brother, Sarah. Honestly, or this ends.”

“Yes, Master Damon. I’m terrified,” she whispered.

Damon loosened his grip, and then kissed the pulse on her throat beating like the nervous wings of a startled bird.

“Damon, what do you think you’re doing?” A voice interrupted.

Annoyed at the interruption, Damon threw a withering glare at Bobby and James. Salt-and-pepper-haired, silver-tongued, and dressed in an impeccable suit, James looked like he just came back from work. His partner of ten years and submissive, Bobby, looked more casual barefoot, clad in tight leather pants and a collar attached to a leash looped around James’ arm.